Remember When
by Dan Breaddy
Summary: Rememeber when.... it's been 3 years. Three long years, and they haven't forgotten about 1 another. One's in hiding, fearing for his life, and the other is an up-and-coming artist. Sequal to Night Stars Didn't Shine. R/R
1. Flushed: the Aftermath

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Disclaimer: I do not own this story or any characters used in it, and am making no money off of it.

Author's Note: I revamped about 1/3 of this chapter, slightly different towards the end. Enjoy!

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No, it wasn't Macondo, and **it wasn't **Cacutta in time past

But **subway** magic turned the tunnels into Beautyrest mattresses

And plenty of God's _children_ started sleeping there. Some

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Were actually Angels fatigued from **long** hours and no pay.

This is an aside, but I have to alert you. Angels run

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Around, don't shave or bathe; acid rain **fractures** their

Feathers, and **French fries **and **coca-cola **corrupt

The **color** of their skin and make them **sing** hoarsely.

The gossamer shoes _so perfect _for kicking clouds

Stain and tear on the **concrete** and in the **hard light**

Of the city _they_ start to look like abandoned barges

Foundering in the **cancerous **waters of the Gowanus Canal.

Shabby gossamer shoes _always _arouse the derision of **smart New Yorkers**

Mercifully, **Angels** aren't tourists, so they are spared _total _disdain.

- Sonnet for the Heaven Below by Jack Agueros

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Flushed

Sometimes, there are days where I wish I could go back. Back to England, back to Hogwarts, back to home. Back to anywhere, it feels like, but New York. And then there are days when I love this city, my newfound home, the bustling place for trade and art that it is.

And sometimes, I regret ever doing things. I wish I could do them over again, and not make that one little slipup that ruined it all for me. And then there are somethings that I wish I could repeat over and over.

But I guess that whatever event happens to us happens, and there's nothing we can do about it. Our destinies are different from what they could've been, had that one event not had happened. I know mine has been set way differently.

~*~*~*~

"Ginny!" Louise shouted across the room. The red head looked up wearily as she shook off her boots and tossed them onto the floor, not noticing where they landed. The common room was empty, except for the pair of girls who had not moved since she left them, as students who had been studying went to bed.

"You're back! Ron was just about to send out a search party but then he got too tired being frantic and went to…" She trailed in surprise at the look on Ginny's face.

"Oh, hullo Ginny. Nice to see you… oh." Emilie looked up from her paper. "What's wrong? Have you been crying? You look… ugly."

Ginny gave them a tired look. "Thank you, guys, but I'm ok. And thank you for your concern, Emilie, it's always nice to know that I have good friends that will remind me of my devilish good looks. And there's nothing wrong. It's just… it's just that I'm tired," she tried halfheartedly in a deflated and empty voice. She added a yawn for effect, but a real one proceeded the false one.

Ginny could only imagine what she looked like. Hair askew and windblown, damp with melted snowflakes, her vest and pant seat wet from snow. Her brown eyes were probably bloodshot from the salty tears, with heavy bags showing from past nights of fitful sleep and her cheeks, a bright pink color. Her head was scalding from the place where Draco had kissed it, though no one could see it, but her ears were numb and freezing, along with the rest of her body.

Inside, Ginny felt as though she had died and her soul had already made its way up to heaven above, or hell below. She was a robot, with all the emotion stolen from her body by Draco Malfoy, no less. But who else than Malfoy? No one could make her feel more ashamed or disgusted, or joyful or happy than he could. And now that he was gone, he was removed, he was away… she thought that she was never feel again, feel such emotion as she had. The thought terrified her and pleased her at the same time, no more hurt and anguish, but no more happiness.

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She had opened the thick oak doors as the snow began to fall harder and the wind became colder, and eased them close behind her. She was careful to be quiet; save Peeves or Filch hear her. She could see the wet path that Draco had left in the carpet, but chose not to follow it. What use would it do now? There was nothing more to say, and nothing that had been forgotten. He had promised, as did she. Freezing from the snow and cold, she trudged up the staircases, down halls, and finally to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who informed her of the time in a rather huffy manner before allowing entrance to the room.

Ginny sat down on in the easy chair across from them, sinking into its worn seat. Her legs were tired from walking, her hair was tired from the wind, her eyes were tired for crying, her mouth was tired from talking, and her heart was tired from loving. Her chest was heavy with weighted clothes, and on her shoulders, it seemed, the world resided. She placed Draco's sketchbook onto the coffee table in front of her, its cover gleaming black like a beetle's back. Her friends, following her motions, looked questioningly at the book but bit their tongues and waited for Ginny to speak.

A wilting Christmas tree let off a faint pine fragrance behind her, filling Ginny's nostrils with its dying scent. She inhaled a deep breath and let it out in small, jagged sighs. The two friends looked at her then at each other.

"You know, Ginny," Emilie began gently. "You're not too good at lying. Look, your thumbs start crossing each other and your ears and your cheeks get red."

"Flushed, Emilie, it's called flushed," Ginny said. She let another breath, smoother than the last, which puffed her freckled cheeks. "And besides, I've been outside for the last hour and a half. It'd be a miracle if anyone went outside for that long in that weather and didn't come in flushed."

"Bet Draco wouldn't come in flushed," she teased from her spot on the couch, her parchment on her lap and books still piled high around her.

"Yes, he was most certainly flushed outside," Ginny said, much too loud by her standards. "Oh my god. I did not just say that." Ginny looked around to her two friends in utter disbelief. Emilie was smiling broadly and Louise was dipping her quill in her inkwell.

Ginny buried her face in her hands as her cheeks began to burn in embarrassment, but felt somewhat relieved that she had told someone something.

"Oh… our little Ginny's getting it on with Malfoy, the Prince of Slytherin!" Emilie said happily. Ginny only sighed in response.

"For some reason, Emilie, I am sensing that Ginny is less than ecstatic with her conquest," Lou commented with a straight face, though all of the girls knew of the jest hidden and subtly laced in her words.

"What a bitch," Emilie replied seriously. "Malfoy's not good enough for her. Snob."

Louise sighed. "She gets lucky with one guy and suddenly she thinks that she's God's gift to men." She shot a glare at Ginny, who received it with dull eyes. "Leave some guys for the ugly looking girls. God, Gin, a little courtesy here."

"It's not like I don't like him - " but Ginny was cut off before she could further explain.

"So you do like him, is that it?" Emilie interrogated, a gleeful smile on her pale face. Ginny's only response was further blushing.

"I knew it!" Louise exclaimed. "I knew that no woman is immune to Malfoy's charm! Not even our own Ginny!" Ginny's face turned a shade deeper, making her look like a strawberry in a wig.

"He is pretty good looking," Louise added as an afterthought, as though she just realized this, or was admitting this for the first time.

"It's not that he 'charmed' me," Ginny said slowly, and the two chattering girls in front of her fell silent. "He drew me." She caught their confused looks and pointed at the sketchbook on the coffee table in front of her. Emily leaned forward and grabbed it off of the table. "He's been drawing pictures of me since the almost the beginning of the year, and one day I caught him drawing me in the library, and it all blew open. And then I couldn't stop looking at him, always wondering if he was drawing me, and I… I…

"Then he caught me painting a couple weeks ago, the one in my room. The one that you pointed out to Ron. And he just… something just _happened_ that made me not stop thinking about him. His face, his eyes, his hands. His sketchbook. I couldn't stop thinking about him, how much I hated him and how daft he was and how good he was to look at and how good his drawings were of me.

"And when I went outside tonight, he was there, and he found me. And he made me talk, and he made me angry, and jealous, and sad, and he even made me cry, and he made me fall in love with him. With everything about him. Then he gave me his sketchbook and walked away, because I had asked him to leave." Ginny's voice was thick, and her words were choking her and clogging her throat. She sounded as if she would start to cry at any time.

She tried to fit deeper into the chair, willing it to just swallow her completely. She felt so empty and so hopeless that she didn't really even see a point of being here, being her.

"These are amazing!" Emilie commented, breaking the silence to admire a picture. "I am so jealous now; why you?" she asked with not scorn, but admiration.

Ginny's first answer came as a squeak and a mumble. "Because he loves me – loved me," came a little louder than a whisper.

"And you?" Lou asked, running her quill feather under her chin.

"Do I love him?" Ginny asked, sitting up a bit. Louise nodded. "Yes, I suppose if constant obsession, unexplained and unnatural feelings and compulsive jealousy and possessiveness mean love, then of course I do."

"How did it feel?" Emilie asked amazed, handing the book over to Louise. "How the hell can it feel to admit you're finally in love?"

"I think it feels terribly wonderful," Ginny said, although her tone suggested otherwise.

"So why are you so blue?" Louise asked confused. Ginny sighed as though she was tired with the world.

"The only thing I want – the only _person_ I want is out of reach. After this year's over, I'll never see him again. And I'm supposed to hate him!" she exclaimed, though her tone lacked volume. Her intention was clearly written on her face. "It's all too confusing, this love stuff. I don't recommend it. It hurts too much."

"Aww… Ginny, don't say that. I'm sure it's lots of fun to be in love."

"Yeah," Ginny agreed with open sarcasm. "It's great stuff, this love thing. Great feelings." She slumped further in the easy chair.

"I wanna die," she whined, closing her eyes. They stung terribly, hurting her tired eyes with her salty tears. She yawned wide; feeling a sense of weariness of such magnitude that she had never felt before.

"I think you need some sleep," Louise said quietly.

"I second that motion," Emilie agreed.

"Personally, I think I wanna die," Ginny repeated. Emilie groaned.

"But Ginny, dear, that is too cliched. Don't you know? 'Romeo and Juliet', it's been done!"

Ginny shook her head. "Emilie, what are you talking about?"

"Never mind. Go to bed."

"But what about Ron?" She yawned again.

"Ginny, we'll deal with Ron. Trust us," Louise said easily with a smile.

"I think I'm going to stay in bed tomorrow," Ginny groaned, and Lou huffed.

"You can't stay in bed if you're not _in bed_, Virginia Isabelle Weasley!"

Slowly, Ginny rose off the leather couch and haphazardly made her way around the common room. Every step took an extraordinary amount of strength as she could feel her consciousness ebbing away, carried out the window of the circular tower steps. As she climbed the stone steps, she rubbed her eyes, grimacing at the stinging sensation she felt when they were shut. It seemed that her heavy dragging feet rubbing against the stone was the only sound in the room, besides the dying fire. Emilie and Louise's loud shouts and shrieks were reduced to whispers and hisses as they struggled to finish their homework. She glanced out the window as she rounded the corner to the girls' dormitory. The snow had tapered off and the clouds cleared away, and she could see the brilliant moon. Its light alone shone down on the castle, a solitary spotlight that illuminated the blanket-covered ground.

Ginny would always remember that night, that crazy, angsty night. That was the night she won love, and lost it, and when she gained a sketchbook but lost a part of her soul. That was the night that she held everything and let it go.

That was the night the stars didn't shine.

And when the stars don't shine, it's up to us to make our own starlight, to shine so bright that nobody notices they've gone missing.

If that makes any sense.

Damn. I've got to get to work now.

The young redhead released the curtains from her hold and they fell, the image of the busy New York traffic disappearing behind a thick sea of beige. Making sure her door was locked, she Apparated from her loft apartment in New York to the studio across the street.

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Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please review afterward!

Many thanks to oneechan19, karamel-flavoured-rain, Carebear 19, L-Kyarhnt, Pandora666, Angie, yyuryyubicuryy4me, Cassandra Sisenta or Krey-Zey, pink-crane, Artemis Le Faey, Snicks, Vie, Isadora, k_gurl, Them Girl, Starlight Nemisis, a fan, Lee Velviet, Thatswhatyouthink, Sorrow Personified, seeker peeker, Anonymous *blah*, Harrys-grl7, FredrickWeasley, iloverwforever, u-chan, Chocolate Muse, Darcel, Jessie Weasley, Ri, Addie Riddle, Draco-lover, Mags, loner, Air, LordsBecca, Neca, Chiruri, Lyss, Linda, Sabacat, child_of_draco, VirtualFaerie, SeZzA DracoandGinny, monkeybird, Darkangel369, nabenabe, Crystal, sk8er grl 4ever, Maile, Kitycat87, Evil*Fairy, Reven Eid, Ling Radcliffe, Random Artemis, Kitkat (mckaticon), Rubyjuls1722, Evalahn, LadyKassandra, dreammaker128, xodevonnyxo, Lucifer, Wind and Ashes, and Angel-Hiragizawa32, all who reviewed Night the Stars Didn't Shine. If I missed you and you reviewed, I am very, very sorry. I got these names 3 separate times going online, and it's been VERY HARD!

Ciao! Kiah

Reviewing promotes weightless and healthy living, so get those fingers moving!


	2. Lame: Draco's Defining Moment

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Disclaimer: Characters are property of J.K. Rowling. Song is property of Reliant K. Los Angeles School of Fine Arts is property of me.

Author's Note: if you have time, please check out my profile and works @ fictionpress.net. I have some pieces of fiction (novel, not poetry) that I might put up, but I'd like to hear your opinions on things I already have up.

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Also, I have a summer cold and cough, which sucks. My sis has it too, and I'm sorry I gave it too her. Hopefully, I get better soon!

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Sometimes, it's embarrassing to talk to you

To hold a conversation with the only one who sees right through

The version of myself I try to hid behind

…

and sometimes, the place I'm at is at a loss for words

If I think of something worthy, I know that it's already yours

And through the times I've faded and you've outlined me again

You've just patiently waited, to bring me back and then

- I am Understood by Reliant K

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Lame:

Draco's Defining Moment

"Defining moments. Does anyone know what a defining moment is?" Daemon Marks walked from the dry erase board over to his desk at the front of the room, sitting down lightly on the edge. Upon the board were the words 'Defining Moment'. He was in room 304 of the Los Angeles School of Fine Arts, the room of Advanced Art.

Pottery wheels lined the back of the wall, with blocks of clay on the surface of the wheel, wax paper wrapped around their sides, and water in buckets placed beside the leg of the bench. Easels were propped with canvases, water-paints or oils in the cabinet in the corner of the room. Sketchbooks were below the paints; some with their original covers still intact, others with murals and magazine clippings glued all over it. A pile of magazines sat on another cabinet, rubber cement nearby.

~*~*~*~

LA School of Advanced Arts was the finest of its kind in the state of California. Set in the countryside outside of Los Angeles, it accepted students from all over the world that showed talent in art, music, or the stage, and had turned out some of the finest artists, musicians, singers, and thespians in the country. Talent agents often sought graduating students from the school, and the Art Wing was always holding art exhibits, showcasing students' work. Commission from purchased work went directly to the student. Tuition to attend LASAA, as it was often called, was quite hefty, but to encourage the less fortunate students, scholarships were offered. Sometimes, full ride scholarships were granted, paying for fees for boarding, education, materials, uniform, and any field trips the student might take.

~*~*~*~

Daemon stood at the front of the room, with the students sitting in various places around the room. He was eating an apple.

A punkish girl with black hair in the back raised her hand. "Chentelle," he called.

"A defining moment is an event where, if it hadn't happened, your life would be _totally _different."

"Exactly." The girl's pale lips upturned in a rare smile. "Now, I know you all are a bit young, but there have still been, and I don't mean to get philosophical on you all, times where you had to make a choice that changed your life," he said, speaking plainly to the sixteen and seventeen-year-olds in front of him. "I want you to remember that time, as hard, painful, or joyful as it may be, and draw, paint, or sculpt it. Draw your emotions, or the scene. Whatever you feel like. But make sure it's associated with your defining moment.

"I hope you received your art schedule for this week. If not, or you lost it," he growled. "There is a copy of it up here. Please, do not trade, I know that you may not like what you have to work with, but this is to inspire _diversity_ and _creativity_."

The students stood and hurriedly walked to their stations. There was little talking, and Daemon momentarily closed his eyes to remember his defining moment.

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Draco Malfoy walked into the library, the doors shutting behind him with a muffled bang. Surveying the deserted library, he regretted ever earning that late night detention from Sprout. He had lost a valuable three hours cleaning the hallways in Hogwarts; three hours that he could've spent doing a variety of things from nine to twelve yesterday night: his essay for Snape, having sex, sketching. He could've been outside, idly laying by the lakeside, or flying around on the open Quidditch pitch. He could've been in Hogsmead, stocking up on sweets and sugary items, or maybe grabbing a butterbeer and teasing Potter, a pastime that had never failed to entertain him.

But no, he was stuck in the library, researching on who-knew-what Snape had been talking about. Grudgingly, he walked through the shelves stocked with books towards the back of the library. He sat down on a table near a stained glass window and huffily pulled out a chair. He sat in it and put his bag on the table, and began to pull out book, parchment, quill, inkwell, and sketchbook.

His sketchbook. Perhaps this was the most interesting thing about the young wizard. The black leather book was his prized possession, and should something happen to it… Malfoy shuddered.

In his sketchbook held sketches of everything. From Fabric from his robe, to a regal owl that was perched in the owlery. Although Malfoy still considered himself an amateur, his works spoke otherwise. They looked as real as if they would leap off the page of thick, heavy paper into reality at any moment.

Opening his book of Advanced Potions _to page 45, he began to read. His brain looked at the complicated words on the old page and jumbled them about in his head. He couldn't concentrate; great, just great. And the two foot essay was due tomorrow._

'Great, wonderful. Just absolutely perfect. Good job Malfoy,' he sarcastically congratulated himself. 'Now you'll probably think of some stupid excuse for not having it done, and have to stay up late again tomorrow.'

He looked around the library for any form of distraction that would take his mind off of homework, and the foreboding shadow growing in his mind. His eye caught a brilliant flash of red and narrowed onto it.

It was the littlest Weasley, surrounded by books and parchment, a few tables away from his own table. She was intensely mesmerized by an old book, and jotting down notes on a torn piece of parchment. He watched her dip her quill in an inkwell and begin to jot more notes down. Then, closing the book and placing it aside, she took the parchment and began to read it.

She unrolled a new sheet of parchment and began to think. She looked over her notes, and wrote down a sentence. Malfoy smirked. No one could say that the girl wasted time, or had bad work ethics.

Her red hair was pulled tightly in a high ponytail, and traveled down her shoulders. It was done in some special style that made it half as long as it should be. Small bangs framed her face. When she bent her head down to read, all Malfoy could see was a red ball with a tail and two ears.

She had a pale face like his, brown freckles dotted all over her face. Her eyebrows were the same shade as her hair, and soft ruby in color. Long eyelashes framed her brown eyes. She had a proportionate nose (there was no other way that Malfoy could describe it. It wasn't big, it wasn't small, it wasn't squished, and it wasn't upturned), and had small, pink thin lips.

Malfoy hated to admit it, but the female Weasley was very pretty.

Draco subconsciously reached for his sketchbook. He flipped it to the first blank page and dug in his bag for a pencil. But before he even put pencil to paper, she stood up.

He could see she was wearing a white, long sleeved shirt that was very loose on her and big, old blue jeans as she walked past him to put the book away. His eyes followed her as she sauntered gracefully to a shelf behind him. He turned his head as she reached up and put the book away. She stood up on her tippy toes and placed it in an empty spot and turned on her heels to face the young wizard.

She saw Malfoy looking at her with an expression of mild interest. "Can I help you?" she asked, sarcasm dripping off every word. Her voice wasn't all that high. It was low and rough, not like Pansy's smooth voice, or Blaise's calming voice.

"Your fly's unzipped," he said calmly, his head resting on his hand. He smirked. "Figures a Weasley _would forget to zip their fly."_

She tipped her head down and looked. Upon seeing her shirt was too long, she lifted it, and Draco drew a breath. She was very skinny and tall in an attractive way. Draco could feel his heart beat faster.

"Is not," she said.

"Monkeys always look," he said. She smiled inspite of herself, remembering times when she would pull that same trick on her brothers, but it soon disappeared.

"Malfoy, I know you can't work on your two foot potions essay that's due tomorrow, but don't take to teasing me. I have my own Herbology report to do, and I don't need you pestering me"

"Me? Pester? You? Never!" he declared. She glared at him. "Alright, I can't work on my damn essay. Give me a break!" he grudgingly admitted.

Ginny gave him a look of utter disbelief. "What is this?" she pondered. "Draco Malfoy? Acting civil? No 'you're too poor' cracks? The Rapture must be going on, and I have sins yet to be absolved!" she said with a sense of sardonic urgency.

"Look, Weasley, I'd make some kind of crack at you, but 'You're too poor, you can't even do your Herbology essay,' doesn't really make a lot of sense. But rest assured, as soon as an opportunity to slip in a money crack presents itself, you shall hear one." She leaned up against the shelf and nodded thoughtfully. Her red tail bounced up and down on her shoulder.

"You have a point there. A very, very lame point, but a point nonetheless." She crossed her arm. "What was it? A detention?"

"What was what, Weasley?"

"Why are you stuck here?"

"Oh. A detention."

"My point exactly."

"Shut it." Malfoy paused, inwardly cringing. Ginny was right; how very lame of him. He was making himself seem stupid, seem so inarticulate. "Why are you _here? _A detention?_" he sneered, mocking her voice._

"I was here yesterday too. I didn't finish my research."

"Uh huh."

"Fine, choose not to believe me," she said plainly.

"I won't." She looked at him.

"Busy not working, I see," she commented

"What did you expect out of a Malfoy?" he asked her.

"True, very true." She looked around his pile. His arm lay on an open book. The book was open to a blank page. She pointed at it. "What book do you got there?"

He looked down at his sketchbook. Damn. He had forgotten it was there. He gracefully closed it. "Nothing."

"I'm sure."

"It's nothing, Weasley."

"I said, I'm sure," she said, pushing strands of red hair behind her ear. Her brown eyes stared into his. "I'm sure it's nothing," she said, much quieter.

"Damn. I still have work to do," she said, looking at her forlorn pile of parchment and books. She walked past him and sat down at her table.

"Yeah. Go work, Weasley."

She bent her head and began to write again. He watched as she sat down and her eyes fell on the book. Her red hair splashed over her shoulder like a river of copper. The freckles on her face were only a shade darker than her hair, a light brown that only stood out because of her pale skin. She was beautiful, Malfoy grudgingly admitted to himself. His fingers ached to sketch this girl – the angel. Making sure that she didn't look up again, Malfoy opened his sketchbook again and picked up his pencil.

And he began to sketch Ginny Weasley.

"Hey Daemon," a boy with blonde hair called to him. The boy sat on the inside of a large windowsill; a sketchbook propped up on his knee. There was a pencil in his right hand, and he appeared to be thinking hard.

"Yeah Tyler?"

"You eva' have a defining moment?" he asked with a thick, New York accent. He pushed his blonde hair out of his eyes; a hoop earring glittered in one eyebrow.

"Sure have."

Daemon had had several, in fact. When Draco Malfoy had decided to go into hiding, becoming Daemon Marks, when he had married Pansy, and when he and Harry Potter set the stage for his death in his room at the Manor.

But the brightest defining moment, and the one that had started it all, stuck out with bright, fiery red hair.

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Author's Note: Much thanks to reviewers terrina, Jocelyn, Rea Yume, Sokorra Lewis, DobbyMania89, Them Girl, oneechan19, Chocolate Muse, Cassandra Sisenta or Krey-Zey, Snicks & Adri, Carebear 19, Darcel (standing up Pansy @ the alter… good idea!**), and Melissa, all who reviewed chapter 1!**

Review questions:

1) Do you think that Draco, since adopting a false identity, has personally changed?

Do you think that even though he thought he loved Ginny before, his feels remained strong or unchanging?

Do you think that his love was strong enough to begin with? (I mean, he only fell in love with her cuz he developed stalker-like habits to sketch her!)

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2) What do you think of his defining moment?

3) Do you have any flashbacks you'd like to see?

Note: I appreciate long reviews over short reviews, but a short review over no review!


	3. Angel

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Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or places. Just the plot. And I'm not makin any money off of this, either.

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Maybe that's why I need you

You and standing in the

Middle of a dark, raging thunderstorm

(the power makes me tremble).

Riding in a fast,

Sleek convertible,

(30 over the limit).

Absorbing the sensation

Of the largest roller coaster

(seatbelt discarded).

And a 180-foot

Parachute free fall

All somehow give me

The unexplainable thrill

Of delighting in something so

Terribly,

Wonderfully

Out of control.

- Erika Banick

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Angel

"Hullo me."

Draco looked at the stone dragon. The dragon glared back at him with round, circular eyes under angry eyebrows. He could vividly imagine a colorful flame of fire shooting out of his mouth at him. The sculptor had really gone all out to sculpt something so realistic.

The dragon, however, did not reply.

"Um… just stopped by to see how you were holding up, ol' Draco, ol' boy. Is that cute stone angel chick down there flirting with you much? Is she a tease?"

Draco took off his cap and ran his long fingers through his black hair. He had it streaked with bold red highlights last time he visited France, and it contrasted nicely with his jet-black hair, which he usually hid under a baseball cap anyway. He was due for a haircut, and would have to remember to make an appointment with Blaise. He put his cap back on and drew his coat tighter around him.

A silver stud glittered in his right ear, something he had been tentative to consider. He wore black baggy pants, complete with silver chain linked belt and a Sponge Bob t-shirt under a leather jacket. Although he didn't watch much TV, the t-shirt was generally accepted wherever he went, and his objective was to assimilate as much as possible.

"God, I forgot how cold it could be in England. Living in California certainly has an effect on one's wardrobe," he observed to no one in particular. "Notice the Sponge Bob," he said proudly to the silent dragon. "People in Los Angeles are absolutely nutters for it.

"Look, I know why you're so puzzled. It's obvious you don't recognize me. I'm Draco Edward Malfoy, better known as Daemon Marks, better known as the scum of the earth, asshole, bastard, Death-eater Man and his side kick Ferret Boy..." he trailed off as he realized he couldn't think of any more names to call himself, or names he had been called.

"So yeah, I'm Draco. The person you're supposed to be memorializing, or whatever you stone dragons do." There was silence as the wind blew by. Some leaves rustled. "But you do it so well," he added, as to not offend the dragon. "But the whole identity thing, that might add to some confusion, I guess. See, you probably think I'm dead. But surprise: I'm not!

"See, I pretended to die. I didn't _really_ die, because then I wouldn't be here, but I guess you already figured _that _out. I died to save myself from becoming a Death Eater. Because, see… if the Death Eater guys think that _I'm _dead, they won't force me to kill muggles and mudbloods, and killing muggles and mudbloods is a biggie on my list of Things to Generally Avoid." He paused, trying to think of a direction that he could steer this conversation toward.

"You know, Marks, you really shouldn't talk to your memorial like that. People will think that you're going nutters – not that you already haven't." Draco spun on his heels of his too-big shoes and turned around.

Harry Potter stood behind him. He wore a black short-sleeved t-shirt under a long-sleeved blue button down and baggy jeans with a leather belt to hold it up on his skinny hips. His messy black hair mused itself in the wind, crossing over on his head and standing straight up.

"Hullo Potter. No one asked for your opinion." Harry seemed amused at Malfoy, and who wouldn't? he supposed.

"So you died today?" Malfoy wanted to wipe the infuriating, superior grin off of Potter's face, but he managed to suppress the immature deed.

"Supposedly." He shrugged.

"Any reason why you came back?"

"Nope."

"Other than you died today?"

"Yes, Potter. Have I made that clear?"

"Crystal." Harry paused and looked at the dragon. "Nice dragon," he commented.

"Yes, I rather think so myself. Kind of looks like me." Draco stuck a pose and Harry snorted.

"Yes, I see the resemblance: an unusually large nose."

"Potter, you're an absolute riot. It's a wonder I'm still a bachelor and you're not."

"Could it have to do the fact that you're a fugitive and I'm an international Quidditch star?"

"It has nothing to do with my social status." Draco took off his cap and ran his hand through his hair. Again.

"Excuse me, of course not." Harry looked at Draco and smirked, but it faded away. Transitioning from a rich and pampered life to one that was barely above poverty level was a hard thing to do, and Harry had to admire Draco's lighthearted and humorous attitude during the entire time.

Draco had a distant look in his eyes, and his head was pointed upward, at the heavens.

"Are you thinking of her?"

"Is there ever a time I'm not?"

"Good point." Malfoy didn't seem to hear him. Instead, he closed his eyes, and Harry had to look twice to see the small twinkle on the inside of his eye.

"Did you know that when you're lying flat on your back, and Ginny's above you, and the wind's blowing her hair around out of her ponytail, and the sky is gray and cloudy, and your lip is bleeding, that she looks like an angel? I mean, she really looks like an angel that's fallen out of heaven, coming to take you home since you've died. She really does." He looked at Harry, who shook his head. Draco lifted up his hand and wiped away a falling tear.

"God, I miss her."

__

The cold winds blew Ginny's hair out in front of her and stung her face. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her and cursed the cold gust.

"Ginny, come on!" Hermoine urged her, running back to keep up with her. Hermoine's own brown curls were put back in a tight bun, something Ginny wished she had thought of doing. Her hair flew around in a ponytail, obscuring her vision. "We're going to miss your brother and Harry playing! I bet the game's already started!"

****

"This is an important game. This is probably the most important game we will play for the rest of the year. Gryffindor is a tough team, but we're tougher. We can beat them."

The Slytherin team walked silently up the wooden stairs to the tower; the only sound was the clomping of their boots on the old stairs. Their robes flapped behind them and their brooms dragged. They stopped when they reached the platform of takeoff and faced their captain.

Classes had resumed after the New Year, and the school was now gathered for the first Quidditch game of the New Year. Of course, Headmaster Dumbledore had decided to take advantage of the Slytherins and Gryffindors intense rivalry, and told each team a week in advance of the upcoming match.

This was guaranteed to be one of the most interesting games of the year.

****

"We've practiced breaking their defense. We've improved our aim and our grips. We've enhanced our speed, we've strengthen our throws," Malfoy said, pacing back and forth, glaring at his team members.

__

The Gryffindor team had been practicing hard, determined to win. Harry, their captain, stayed up late every night, trying to work out a strategy and new drills. Ron was just as eager to win, a newfound fuel pushing him harder and harder to beat the Slytherin chasers.

He had been furious when he saw the picture, and chewed Ginny out the next day to the point where she was in tears. The common room was silent as he yelled at his sister, whose eyes where brimming with salt water. He refused to talk to her for the next two days, but glared at her at all the meals. Distraught, Ginny refused to come out of her dormitory for a day until Ron came up and apologized.

Ron would not let Draco Malfoy's team win this game. Not in a lifetime.

****

"Their keeper isn't anything special. There's one of him, and three of us. He should be easy to overpower."

__

The day was already forbidding enough to make anyone want to go back to sleep. The sky was gray and overcast, setting everybody's mood a little bit crankier and solemn. Even Louise, who played chaser for the Gryffindors, wasn't as jovial as normal. She was silent at breakfast, leaving quickly and saying she had to get ready.

"I'm worried that Ron and Harry will push the team too hard," Hermoine said to Ginny as they walked out of the castle, on the worn path that would lead them to the Quidditch pitch. "I know that they've always been Slytherin's rivals, but now… it's like war." Ginny agreed.

****

"We can hit harder than those Creevys. We can hit longer. We can aim better," Malfoy said, looking directly at his two beaters. They nodded grimly. Graham Pitchard hit his bat against his hand in a rather threatening manner.

__

" 's cold today, don't you agree?" she asked the older witch, taking out a hunter green thermal headband and putting it on her head, covering her ears. Her mother had knitted it for her this year and sent it with the Christmas presents; so far, Ginny had found good uses for it. Hermoine nodded and took out her own blue one. "Shame they scheduled a Quidditch game on the coldest day of the year."

"To think we could've been studying," Hermoine said wistfully.

Ginny bit back a laugh. "You're joking, right?"

"No. Why would I be joking, Ginny?" she asked in a serious tone. They opened the gate to the pitch and walked to the Gryffindor side. The gate closed behind them with a clang.

"No reason," Ginny replied.

****

"It's showtime, men. And need I remind you of what will happen if we fail to win at practice next week?" The sullen faces of the Slytherin shook. They knew how to play; they knew how to win this game.

"Now line up!" Malfoy said harshly. Instantly, his team conformed to the lineup of takeoff. He looked at them with pride; his team was ready for this. He turned to face the moving door.

__

The Gryffindor section was filled with shivering huddled students of different years. The two girls pushed their way to the front to see the game. Looking up, they could see the two teams' players flying around, anxious for Madam Hooch to begin the game. Ginny could see Harry and Ron, sitting on brooms next to each other. Their hands were clasped together; neither of them had thought of wearing gloves. They had on their Weasley earmuffs and Gryffindor scarves over their scarlet robes.

****

Doom lingered on Malfoy's mind as he flew out, his team following him. Ginny was out there in the throng of students, watching him as he flew about. He flew a lap around the field to shake off the nervousness, the wind blowing around him.

__

Lavender Brown, Sara Jennings, and Louise Braisen lined up, their faces emotionless to the Slytherin chasers' sneering faces. Ginny could imagine the kind of prep talk Harry had given his team.

'Remember,' she could hear him say in a serious tone. 'Slytherin gives us a lot of crap. They play dirty and unfairly. Don't let them anger you. Don't let them mess with your head. Don't let them prevent you from scoring. Don't let them get in your way. This is nothing we haven't done before.'

' 'He who angers you conquers you'.' Ginny could picture Sara, who was always quoting someone, say. The team would grip their brooms tighter, hold their heads higher, and straighten their backs.

****

His mind went blank as he prepared for the game to begin. He lined up above his team, across from Potter. Potter's cheeks were red from windburn already, and his messy hair had already become windblown. He glared at Malfoy with such intensity that Draco began to wonder what had happened in the last few days, and if it was possible for the Boy-Who-Lived to hate him even more.

__

Looking across from Harry, she saw Draco and her heart gave a little skip. His hair was slicked back and his cheeks where pale, his ears, red from the cold. His glaring eyes were set on Harry. He sat up on his Nimbus 2001 like a statue, with a stiffed, relaxed posture. His emerald green robe flapped in the cold wind behind him.

****

But now was not the time to worry about that. The game would begin soon, and if Malfoy didn't concentrate, he would be left behind.

A shrill whistle broke Ginny's daydream. The red quaffle had just been thrown up in the air and the chasers from each team surged forward. Slytherin was first to grab it, and promptly ducked under the Gryffindor chasers. Harry and Draco flew up and separated, searching for the small Snitch as it zoomed about.

Ginny watched, fascinated, as the Slytherin chasers went to work. They wove in and out of each other in an elaborate braid. The Gryffindors, she could see, where becoming frustrated with their game. They began to try to simply intercept the pass.

****

Flying around at the center of the field, Malfoy was keen to watch for the Snitch. He dropped lower and scanned the ground, then Potter, then the ground, then Potter.

Sticking her hands out, Lavender grabbed the quaffle. Tucking it low and to her side, she began to fly low to the ground. Instantly, all the chasers changed direction and followed her. Sensing their presence behind her, Lavender picked up her speed and dropped lower. Ginny looked at her, puzzled. She looked upward, yelling for support, when realization dawned upon her.

Sara and Louise were flying higher and higher, towards the Slytherin goals. Sara stopped about five feet from the lowest goal, Louise on the other side of the second highest goal, back about another five feet. What seemed like an elaborate plan for ten points was beginning to form.

****

Draco caught a glimpse of gold and dove. There it was, the small walnut, fluttering above his goal.

"Ginny!" Hermoine shouted, pointing at Louise, who sat determinedly behind the goal.

"She's going to score, Herm! Once Sara get the quaffle from Lavender, she's going to pass it to Lou, and she'll score from behind," Ginny said patiently. Hermoine had never been one to strategize Quidditch plays.

"No! Look above her! The snitch!"

****

It was right above that girl's head. She didn't even know it was there.

Ginny watched as Draco picked up speed, quickly gaining space on the Snitch.

Lavender threw Sara the quaffle and swerved to the outside parameter of the pitch. Sara caught it and quickly set up to throw it to Louise, whose arms were open and waiting for the pass.

Then Sara hesitated as he saw Draco approaching from behind.

"Louise!" she screamed, tucking the quaffle under her arm.

****

Draco stuck his arm out, hand open. He was so close to catching it. "Louise," was the last thing he heard before he blacked out.

It happened too fast. Draco collided with Louise, pushing him and her off their brooms. Ginny watched in horror as they tumbled in a slow, hypnotic dance to the ground just outside the goal sand area. They landed with a thud.

The Snitch, frightened by the crash, had accidentally flown straight into Harry Potter's hand, who had rushed over to see what had happened. The game ended in an eruption of cheers, clapping, boos, and hisses from all sides of the field.

"Damn," Ginny muttered as she jumped over the parameter to her friend. She ran to Louise, who lay motionless on the ground. "Lou!" she said, kneeling down onto her knees. Taking two fingers, she checked for a pulse in her neck, letting go a breath she hadn't known she had been holding when she found one. "Lou, wake up! You're not dead, you're not dead, you're not dead!"

****

'I'm not dead. I just hurt. A lot. Where the hell is my team? Is the game still going on? Did we win? Where's the Snitch? Am I bleeding?' Thoughts raced through Malfoy's head as he lay on the ground.

"Ginny?" Louise said faintly, stirring over to one side. "What are you doing out here? You don't play Quidditch."

****

'Did she say Ginny?'

Malfoy slowly turned on his side, easing onto the fresh bruises that were forming on his pale underside. He looked up at Virginia Weasley who sat in front of her friend, who lay on one side in front of her.

"Lou, I know. You've told me I should play chaser with you a billion and a half times."

****

The only time Malfoy lost it was when he was near _her_, the goddess, the image of perfection. The angel. Her cheeks were pink from running, and from the cold, stinging wind, but her eyes were livid with concern. A pang ran through Malfoy's chest; that concern was not intended for him, but instead to the girl – Ginny's friend – lying beside him.

"Not a billion and a half. More like three million," she said groggily.

****

Red waves blew and fanned out in front of her face, which she impatiently brushed aside. They held the rainbow in their sheen, and swirled around her like an aura, like the northern lights in the winter sky. They shone like stars against the dull gray sky behind her. Her freckles made the sky pale to the color of soupy mashed potato gravy.

Her eyes momentarily flicked behind her friend's shoulder, at his face. At his nickel colored eyes. Her eyes were like orbs of suspended Knuts, brown and shiny, newly minted. But it was only for a moment, no more than a second, and their contact was lost as she diverted them away, as if she was ashamed to know him, or see him, possibly as he saw her.

Her coldness towards him made him feel as though he could just evaporate off of the face of the earth, and his body fly up to the sky. Or as if he could just sink right through the ground. It made him feel as though he did not exist, and maybe to her, he didn't.

"Are you alright?"

****

That concern was not for him.

"I've been better," Louise admitted. "I was just about to die here with your lov – worst mortal enemy, but then, lo and behold, you come out here and wake me up." She pouted, and behind her, Draco sniggered even though it hurt, and his mouth tasted metal with blood. He gingerly touched his bleeding lip.

"Excuse for being concerned. Does anything hurt?" Ginny said sarcastically.

"Ginny, I just crashed midair with an airborne hunk of one hundred and forty pounds human flesh and fell twenty feet. Everything hurts."

"Anything damaged? Broken? Bleeding? Marred? Maimed?"

"Enough! You're making what's left of my head hurt! I don't think anything other than my pride is dented, my ego deflated, my ankle and left wrist might be broken, and I think the interior of my small intestines has crashed into my stomach, mixing with the acid and gum from two weeks ago that I accidentally swallowed. Now I think the acid is traveling up my esophagus, and I'll chuck it up for you any second now."

"Can't you be serious for once, Louise Braisen?! You might be seriously hurt!" Ginny said in a manner that was too motherly for her. Lou smiled at her, understanding her anger as concern.

"Mum always said that the pain hurts less if you have a little humor," she said faintly.

"Words to live by, Weasley," Draco spoke from beside her. He had propped himself up on an elbow and was looking at them in amusement

His lower lip was bleeding, and the blood trickled down his chin. His robe and upper shirt buttons were undone, and Ginny could see bruising on his shoulder and the bottom of his neck. His hair was mused from the fall and he looked devilishly sexy.

"Your friend is wiser than she appears." He looked at Louise, whose gold hair was matted with blood, lying on the ground. He stood up with difficulty, and rubbed his wrist.

"Hey! I resemble that remark!" she said lightly, obviously flattered by Draco's remark.

"Ok, Lou, it's obvious that you'll live to see another day, and you're achieving nothing by laying on the ground. Up to the hospital wing with you!" she held out her hand and helped Louise up. Cheers erupted from all sides as Ginny led a limping Louise off the field, Malfoy following after them.

"Ginny, did I score that goal?"

"No, you didn't, Lou. I'm sorry."

"Shucks."

__

=-=-=-=-=

"Oh Marks, I forgot to tell you," Draco's eyes snapped open and he looked at Harry. He seemed to be digging for something in his pant pocket.

"What is it, Potter?" he asked with curiosity. "Did you bring my a lollipop? Perhaps a bouquet of flowers on my death day?"

Harry looked up, smiling. His eyes held a dancing light that reminded Draco of a child. He seemed undaunted by Malfoy's sarcasm.

"Ginny stopped by at the Burrow other day, and Ron gave me her new address. She came by just before she moved to New York." In Harry's hand was a piece of paper. Draco took it and turned it over. There was an address scratched on it with black ink. He held it above his head, deciphering Harry's messy scrawl.

"New York… New York… isn't that in…" he trailed off. "What country is that in, Potter?"

"The US," he said, looking at Draco strangely. Draco grinned, then looked at Harry.

"I'd hug you but… no…," he said, putting the piece of paper in his pocket. Harry grinned.

"Anytime."

=_=_=_=_=_

__

Two Days later…

There was a knock at the door. Ginny Weasley hopped around boxes in her bedroom and living room to the foyer of her brand new apartment and opened the door. There was no one there, but a single rose lay on the ground, wrapped in cellophane. It glittered in the hallway light. She picked it up, glancing around the hall in case the person was still there.

Puzzled, she closed the door and walked through the hallway, to her small kitchen. Sitting on a chrome stool, she read the manufacture's card attached to the rose.

****

The Enchanted Everlasting Rose!

The magically enhanced Rose stays fresh as long as the giver has romantic feelings towards the receiver of the rose. The redness of the rose petals and the fragrance of the petals indicate freshness.

Carefully taking the rose out of its wrapper, she filled up a vase that Emma Weasley, her niece, had decorated for her and placed the rose in it. Then she carefully poured water into the vase and placed it in the center of the table.

As she turned to throw the cellophane away, she noticed a small piece of paper. She picked it out between the wrapping and read it.

****

Happy Valentines, Weasley.

Love Always, D. M.

Author's Note: Much thanks to reviewers crazyfire, hart-break, KuTiExAzNxAnGeL, Massao28 (here… have a tissue! Just in case. D/G forever!**), Simple Confusion, _voided, blackrose62, SamiJo, death (**you didn't sound like a prep. Cherries are for all kinds of people! *lol***), prexus, Chocolate Muse, and Gin (**I dunno when they'll meet. It's however the story turns out, I suppose**), all who reviewed chapter 2.**


	4. Conflict: a Plot Twist!

**Disclaimer****: I do not own or am making any money off of this story. Characters belong to J.K. Rowling, song belongs to Dead Poetic.**

**Author's Notes****: thanks for waiting so patiently for this chapter. It's dedicated to my beta-reader, becuz this is her favorite story.**

**VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: this story, as for right now anyways, does not take place chronologically. Therefore, last chapter, Ginny is in New York. She still lives in England in this one. please try not to be confused and think too much over it.**

**Thanks to SpiralSpace for catching my Sponge-Bob t-shirt oppsee. Sponge Bob, the time this fic is set, does not exist. Thanks for catchin and correctin me!**

**Oh, and if you can't get enough of great D/Gs, be sure to click over to for loads of D/G fanfiction. Plus, R and NC-17 rated fics are accepted. BTW, on that site, I'm Dan, but I haven't been able to upload any stories becuz of school and I did it wrong the first time. =/**

****

****

**_With my back to the wall you've somehow pinned me up against_**

_Fingernails in the palms of these tightly clenched fists_

**_And I'm somewhere in between a held tongue and a curse_**

**_Or I could keep it inside and hide it_**

**_In hopes my avoidance will cure it_**

_But there's no time for this_

_So light it up and let it fly away_

**_A Molotov cocktail, my dreams symbolized in flames_**

**_And this routine feels like a knife, entering my back then down my spine._**

**_I've withstood the sting for long enough, and I'm prepared to discard it._**

_So light it up and let it go away._

_So light it up and let it fly away._

_Fly away._

_ Molotov, Dead Poetic_

**Remember When:**

**Conflict**

"Todd invited me out for dinner again, for St. Valentine's day," Ginny said, trying to fill the awkward void of conversational silence that had fallen. The two friends were catching up as they waited for their orders to arrive. She took a sip of her tea, and making a face, re-heated it with a tap of her wand.

"Oh really?" Louise asked, interested. She looked up; glancing into the rare English sun and brought a tan hand up to shield her placid blue eyes.

"Yeah," Ginny said with a nod, red hair falling onto her shoulders with the movement of her head. She brushed it aside. "Fancy restaurant in Muggle London. I've never been there before," she said neutrally, though her free hand clenched itself in restrained anger.

"But Ginny, aren't you supposed to be leaving tomorrow for New York?" she asked before taking a sip of coffee.

"Our date's tonight," Ginny replied with a hint of malace. 'I should be visiting my family,' she thought angrily, staring down at her reflection in the brassy tea. Her mirror image wrinkled her eyebrows. 'Not going on a date with someone I don't even _like_.'

"He picks me up at eight." Her own voice sounded strange even to herself. She shuddered; tonight, she would break the news to Todd: she didn't love him. She didn't even particularly like him. She didn't even want to be _friends_. In short, she wanted nothing to do with him.

Perhaps she wasn't being fair. Ginny bit her lip and wondered if she was being a tad _harsh_. But Todd, who was a good man, was suffocating her. Smothering her with affection, trapping her with his kisses, killing her with his _dreams_. Having only been a couple for a year, he was already talking about marriage, a commitment so sacred and emotionally involved that Ginny doubted she'd ever consider herself ready for marriage. But he talked enthusiastically about it, dropping baby names and looking for available flats in London - not New York - London.

He had even suggested that she put her "Little Art Hobby" aside and focus on a degree or specialty that she could make a living off, though she had made it clear to him that she would paint in good times and in bad. She hissed softly at the thought of forsaking her livelihood for a _man_, remembering how close she had come to smacking him good and hard like her mother had so often done to her brothers.

"Something wrong?" Louise asked, a concern look on her golden face. Ginny felt her face flush with blood but said nothing. "You made a hissing noise," she added helpfully.

"Yes, there is, Louise," Ginny said finally, running her eyes over her friend's face. After a few moments of weighted silence, she spoke again.

"It's Todd."

Louise's watery blue eyes darkened considerably and Ginny felt her heart sink. She had gone through so much trouble to set Ginny and Todd up, and Todd had all but announced their marriage. Louise had been so delighted when they first got together, Todd singing praises about 'gorgeous' Ginny Weasley and how he was so in love with her. Louise had been so proud of them and it tore Ginny in two to tell her.

"What about Todd?" she asked, guarded. Ginny's intense dislike towards Todd temporarily diminished at her friend's disapproval. She wished herself to like him, even a little, if it would make her dear friend happy.

Ginny felt helpless and silly. "It's just that Todd's?" she struggled for the appropriate word. "He's? choking me," she said as her brown eyes went wide to emphsize.

"He's great, Louise, he really is, but he's very over-powering in a relationship. We always go to the cinemas he wants, or the games he wants, and we always do the things he wants. I can't help but feel a little like an arm trophy for him. And it's not that I don't try to suggest that we do something I like, but he seems so off-put that I just give in."

"Oh Ginny, you sound like an old hag who has all the things she could ever desire and still manages to complain!" Louise interrupted. The tone cut away at Ginny's resolve; what could have been said in a joking and friendly way was not.

"That's not all Louise!" Ginny interrupted, a rock forming in her throat. Louise's blue eyes became narrowed slits and she leaned back in her chair, crossing her muscular arms over her chest. "We've only gone out for a _year_ at the _most_ and he already talks about marriage!"

"Marriage is the next step in life, Ginny," she explained calmly. Ginny breathed sharply, her anger rising rapidly.

"I don't want to get married! Not now, anyway! And I don't want to talk about kids, or flats, or _careers _with anyone, and especially not Todd! Louise, can you believe he wants me to give up _painting_? He thinks it's a silly hobby of mine and that I should 'focus' on a 'real' career, maybe get a degree in accounting so we can open a firm together! This is not what I want, and it's not what's good for me!"

"It's all about you, isn't it Ginny?" Louise distanced herself away from her friend.

Ginny scowled, irritated. "Well Todd's too damn busy caring about _our _future life together and how good _he'll _look wedding an internationally-acclaimed painter that someone has to worry about my well-being!" She paused, forcefully dragging the tears out of her eyes with her thumbs, embarrassed that she was crying in front of her friend.

Louise's face softened. "Ginny, dear, you're getting all worked up over _nothing_. Todd doesn't mean to hurt you, doll, he really doesn't." Ginny looked up, the rim of her eyes a hot pink. "He loves you." She triple-doggy-dared herself to believe Louise's words ? they were true, and you _never _turned down a _triple-doggy-dare_ ? but she couldn't.

"That's just it, Louise," Ginny said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I _don't_ love him."

For months, Louise had raved about a man who would _perfect_ for Ginny. She bragged that this miracle man would even make her forget about Draco, a thought that Ginny was horrified to imagine. She finally agreed to be set up on a 'Blind date', as Louise called them, though she secretly wanted Louise to stop talking about him. Todd had immediately claimed the still depressed, overly polite and quiet Ginny for his own, slowly drowning her over the course of a year.

At first, she took to him, willing herself to like such a nice man as Todd, because there weren't many nice men in the world and she felt like she needed to keep one close to her. In a moment of emotional depression and deep trust in Todd on a summer day whose date had embedded itself into her mind, she had shown him a very special painting of hers: a handsome, pale man looking off to the side, surrounded by angels. Instead of the expected kiss of adoration and the fountain of praise, Todd became like stone, glaring at the man ? Draco, she admitted to herself ? as if to kill him. He brushed his girlfriend off with a dry "Pretty picture" comment.

Ginny was crushed that a person she had poured so much of herself into, practically baring her damn _soul_ would so easily dismiss her. And so her hatred of Todd found root in her.

And he only seemed to add fuel to Ginny's internal inferno. Todd, by nature, had always been very narrow-minded while Ginny's mind was open like a window. He had taken a dislike of art ? painting especially ? the moment she had shown him that picture. It was _so _blaringly obvious that he didn't understand the emotional side of art. He understood the blending of colors to achieve pigment perfection and the different styles of painting well enough. He could recite names of sculptures and painters and monuments of art. He could list names of museums he had been to and legendary pieces of art he had viewed for himself.

But he missed the way Mona Lisa smiled just so the faint apples of her cheeks tinged pink. He skipped over David's physique and commented instead on his nakedness, missing the fact that he stood bare because he wore his pride and faith like a garment. He oversaw the texture and layers on Van Gogh's flowers that made each one different from the one beside it, as though perfection was not achieved through unity, but through diversity. He failed to see the pain on the artist's own face in his self-portrait, tension in the temples and the thinning of his fine red hair.

Todd's eyes swept over the entire picture and declare it seen, viewed, and appreciated, and would move onto the next.

A passion for art, especially paintings, burned Ginny. Todd viewed it as inferior and unproductive; paintings were worthless unless the painter was dead. "If I am to have a _good _wife," he would say, looking at Ginny with a glint in his eye as he spoke, "She would need to be productive and successful. She must have a social life and must keep little hobbies like _doodling_," he glared at one of her paintings that hung proudly above her couch, "At home, and to a minimum to make time for a career." Ginny slapped him across the face, hard, and asked him to leave her flat.

And instead of catching her hint that she would not change for him, he only became more overbearing. He aimed to transform the free-willed girl physically and emotionally, which only made her resist him more. He wished to control her, wild like a fairy, into becoming obedient and submissive as a dog.

Their outings somehow always ended with an argument, sometimes over silly things like where to dine and what show to see, and, then again, over larger things. "No", she'd tell him over and over again, "I have no desire to work the books. I don't want to be a secretary. I'm a terrible nurse, so don't even suggest it. Todd, dear, I want to paint!" She reconsidered once, and added as an afterthought, "I'd love to study at the University of Paris for some sort of art degree."

"Surely you joke, my dear Gin-girl," he said, kissing her cheek. She froze like ice; she hated the nickname 'Gin-girl' and the way he said it, and she hated how he had dismissed her dreams as a mere _joke_. A joke.

She'd bit her lip, telling herself that she would not cry, at least not until he could not see her.

She began to dread the moments when he'd come to her flat to pick her up and the end of the date, when he'd expect a kiss. Ginny would brush her teeth until her gums bled; feeling as though she had spoken an Unspeakable. His name made her cringe in disgust and shake with rage.

He was a really nice man, he truly was. But Ginny couldn't _stand _him.

Ginny looked at Louise's face. "It's not just because he's not Malfoy, Lou, if that's what you're thinking."

"I couldn't help it," Louise admitted. Ginny didn't bother hiding her hurt.

"It's just that you seemed so hung up about Malfoy," Louise tried.

"I _love_ Malfoy," Ginny said fiercely. "I can't exactly help it Lou, he was my first love; how _can_ I forget him? I mean, even if I didn't love him, how could I forget someone like Malfoy?!" she looked at Louise meaningfully, feelings that had long laid dormant rushing through her. "But I'm not stupid enough to just stand around waiting for him, if I meet someone that _I _think will do me good, I'll go for it. But Todd isn't that someone." She shook her head.

"And I do still love Malfoy," she repeated wistfully.

"See!" Lou exclaimed, taking a sip of tea.

"But that doesn't mean I'll never love again. Malfoy is not the reason I don't like Todd. It's not even a key factor!" Ginny insisted, cocking her neck to the side.

"Well, you might have already made up your mind not to like any guy who's _not _Malfoy."

Ginny pretended to be hurt. "Would I _really _do that?"

"You're awfully devoted to a guy that's supposed to be dead," she replied.

"Shh! Louise, you're not supposed to say that aloud. Just because Voldemort's no longer a threat doesn't mean that Malfoy's not a wanted man!" She thought for a second. "And I'm not just going to _give up _on Malfoy, anyway. I _love _him, and that love is a devoted, everlasting, I'll-let-you-kiss-me-in-the-morning-even-though-you-have-dragon-breath kind of love. The kind that you don't and just can't forget."

Lou nodded. "Deep, Ginny, real deep."

Ginny grinned, the sun shining on her freckles so they sparkled.

A polite cough grabbed their attention. The waitress who had taken their orders now stood beside their table with a tray in her arms. They smiled apologetically and moved their elbows away so she could set their plates down. Ginny assured her that everything was fine and that her tea was still hot, and Louise asked for more napkins.

"So what are you going to do, if you really don't like Todd?" Louise asked after the waitress had given her a handful of napkins.

Ginny bit her lip before replying. "I really don't know," she said helplessly. "I'm overwhelmed by him, and it crushes me to know that he likes me so much, and I? don't."

"Ginny," Lou began warmly. Ginny's body filled with a Pepper-Up potion sensation. "You're a great girl, you really are. And I trust that you'll make the right decision and that everything will come together in the end and be all right."

Ginny gave her friend a hard look, smiling slowly. "Lou, if that had come from _anyone else_, it would have sounded real cheesy."

"I know, Gin, I know. So, I heard you have a party in New York," she began slyly. "Am I invited?"

"Well?" Ginny started, taking a sip of tea. "You and Emilie were, at first, but then I decided to invite some foreign dignitaries who had shown some interest in several of my paintings, and they got the invitation instead. So sorry."

She looked up at Louise's blank face and said, "Just kidding."

"Ginny, if you had been anything but kidding, you would not be breathing right now," Louise said testily. Ginny smiled easily as she reached into her handbag and present Louise with an embossed invitation to her gallery premier.

"What do I wear to these upper class society gatherings?" Lou asked casually as she noted the date of the premier and placed the invitation into her bag.

"Not what you're wearing right now," Ginny said, "That's for sure."

"Understandably, but -" Lou started to say before Ginny cut her off with a smile.

"Hey," she said, bringing her hand to her heart, "It's my first art premier too. Tell you what: when I go to get fitted for a dress with Blaise Zabini-Potter, you come too. I'll have my wicked way with Harry, he can talk to Blaise; we'll hook you up." Ginny winked and Louise laughed at her friend's playfulness.

'This is the way that should Ginny remain: always happy,' She thought to herself as she ate her cooling lunch, casting a quick reheating spell before taking another bite.

****

"Todd, would you like to come in for a quick cup of tea?" Ginny asked her boyfriend politely as he walked her up to her flat, avoiding his eyes. Of course, he was the one who had given himself the title of 'boyfriend' automatically upon the second date, and Ginny had been too weak to refuse. Inwardly, she dreaded the moment when she'd be expected to kiss him goodbye, and had hoped that this would be a good time to break up with him: over tea in what was left of her kitchen. If she was lucky, she wouldn't need to give him a good night kiss.

He had refused to see her Apparate home from the restaurant and insisted that they drive back together so that he could see her off like a good boyfriend. She cringed and her hands shook through the taxi ride home. He mistook her nervousness as moving jitters and became disgustingly comforting towards her during the ride. Her back became rigid as he placed his hand over hers, and she felt her anger ignite like gas around a flame. 'Just a little longer' she thought as she glared at his hand as his fingers ran circles over her smudged fingers.

"Sure," he replied behind her, his suave voice like a caress. She turned around at him and offered a small smile as she opened the door, her hands pressed against her back. He smiled back a perfect model smile, his brown hair falling into his eyes. He looked perfect tonight, in khakis and a dark blue wool sweater. She, on the other hand, looked like Aubrey Hepburn in a little black dress and open-toed black heels, her hair left down, cascading down her back like a waterfall of red. Black, she had thought, would symbolize something depressing. He hadn't gotten the hint.

Depositing her wand back into her purse, she opened the door and allowed him to walk through, following him through her hallway.

Fewer boxes littered the otherwise empty living room, now that most of her belongings had been flooed to her new apartment in New York. She had been eating dinner at the Burrow with her extended family who wished to see her off for the last two weeks, at her mother's insistence, so they had not protested at Todd's invitation to a Valentine's dinner before she left for The Big Apple like she had hoped they would.

She made a noise and stubbed her toe when she ran into his back and jumped away, apologizing profusely. She looked up just in time to see Todd turning around, his eyes flashing uncharacteristically and his mouth falling down upon hers, using his body to back her up. Although Ginny was not particularly weak, he caught her by surprise and she couldn't push him off. She tried to push him with her hands on his forearms, but he only wrapped his arms around her slim waist. She made another noise when she hit the door rather hard, the deadlock bruising her backside, her eyes wide with pain.

Todd kissed with fervor, urgently pressing his lips to hers. His fingers tangled into her long hair as he cradled her head upward. The heat from his body channeled to hers, making her pink with warmth. Ginny closed her eyes helplessly as her body sparked.

Her bodily response surprised herself; she had never felt so much of a race of heartbeat or a spark of desire whenever they kissed. Now she did, although not for the man kissing her.

But this was the way that she had always wanted to kiss, madly, feverishly. But not by Todd, who was rather clumsy and inexperienced at such emotional kissing, an infant to such strong emotions as deep love and anger. She had always fantasized that Malfoy would kiss her like this, caught up in his strong feelings of desire and love for her.

She hesitantly moved to kiss back and then move away to end the kiss, but as she began, he stopped, resting his forehead on hers. Relief flooded through her as she lifted him off herself slightly.

"Ginny," he said, his voice slightly hoarse. She opened her eyes slowly, staring into Todd's bright blue ones. He continued without her response, which was probably a good thing. "Ginny, I apologize. I've been a terrible boyfriend," he said, running his hand through her hair.

"I've been a complete arsehole to you, telling you what to do and where to work and naming our kids, and I just realized that tonight, over dinner. I haven't been respecting you at all, and you deserve more respect than anyone I know. You're a terrific girl, Ginny, and I love you with all my heart, I just don't know how to.

"This isn't the way courtship should be at all."

"Todd," she whispered, slightly confused. What could cause such a complete turn-around in him? Had Lousie hinted - or even spilled - her growing pain to her boyfriend, who hoped to keep her by her side? More importantly, how could she break up with him now? When would be an opportune time to tell him that he used up his chance with her and had overextended his welcome?

"I really do care for you, Ginny," he whispered, running his thumb over her cheek, and a knife gutted her stomach as she looked into his eyes. They weren't as complex as Draco's dark gray ones, but they still swirled with emotion: contrition, fierce care and love, sorrow. They were placid and clear, like the Hogwarts Lake on a spring day.

"It's ok," she whispered even though it wasn't, scared at the lack of distance between them and the knowledge that her chance had been taken. Resigned and depressed, she said, "I forgive you."

His hand found hers and intertwined their fingers, his lips placed a kiss on hers. "It's not, but thank you." She found that his thumb stroking hers was becoming very distracting, but not romantically. She found it annoying.

"Could you give me another chance?" he asked softly.

'No!' Ginny wanted to scream. 'I don't like you and I hate the way that you treat me! You've had your chance and you lost it; assholes shouldn't get another!'

She nodded meekly. Long distance relationships didn't work anyway.

When he bent her head to kiss her again, she was sure she felt something other than disgust for him, a small twinge in her chest, close to her heart. She sighed in frustration as she thought of the dilemma she had just gotten herself into, finding it easy to ignore Todd's kisses.

**Author's Notes: ah ha! A plot twist as it thickens!**

**Thank you to all who read and reviewed Chapter 3, especially dreamer151 (**are they different? I hadn't noticed all that much?. They shouldn't be too different though.**), ginandtonic,** **MoonlightPrincess, RowenaMcKinnon** don't worry, I will finish the story? I am determined! If you can't get enough of D/G goodness, check out some of my other stories?. hahaha**) maRY**,** Yasminriddle, Massao-na-Mizu, (thanks! I try to show my enthusiasm about being a Christian, becuz we have "life in the fullest."**)**, Faenix**, **TokyoPrincess** whatever! Black hair is HOT!**), Chocolate Muse, SpiralSpace (**8O oh wow. That's not fair. I wanna see a Draco with black hair! Thanks for catching that; I think I changed it, and if not, it's changed on ? now it's Teenage Muntant Ninja Turtles?**), Vu,** **Kendraen Ideals (**yup, I've read that story, and this rose is similar, but I needed something kinda surprising to excite and draw in readers. Worked, didn't it?**), restive silence,** **Liebling, Yammas, butterfly kisses3 (**he was just brainstorming? **hahaha), Grumpy1, blackrose62, Christine,** **Eternal-Damnation,** **KuTiExAzNxAnGeL, and** **hart-break** **all who reviewed chapter 3.**

**Thanks for reading. Please review!******


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